The Daily Prophet
by Amber Akasha
Summary: Harry Potter was sent to Azkaban charged with murder. The murder of Cedric Diggory. He was, of course, innocent. That was five years ago, and today he's to be released...would you like to read the Daily Prophet's shocking headlines? slightly dark!harry AU
1. The Front Page of The Prophet

* * *

Story: THE DAILY PROPHET

Summary: Harry Potter was sent to Azkaban charged with murder. The murder of Cedric Diggory. He was, of course, innocent. That was five years ago, and today he's to be released...would you like to read the Daily Prophet's shocking headlines?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of his characters.

Hope you enjoy it!

Hum...english is my second language, so please point out the errors so I can correct them.

* * *

**THE DAILY PROPHET**

Yesterday the Wizarding World last scandal shook the Wizengamot.

After the polemic trial just five years ago, The-Boy-Who-Lived sentence had come to an end and an official hearing was being held in an open session at the Wizengamot.

We talked to Hermione Granger, one of Potter's well-known friends, just before the guards from Azkaban arrived. "We are going to give him another opportunity to do the right thing. Forgive and forget, they say, and it may be possible to do at least one of those _if_ Harry returns to his place."

Mr. Potter walked into the room where the session was going to be held, one dementor on each side. He had to be held at times as he dozed off while he walked to the platform on which he would sit. His robes clung loosely onto him, worn out and battered, and through the holes dirty pallid skin and extremely thin arms and legs could be seen. He looked like a small walking skeleton, and it was difficult to believe that he had just celebrated his 19th birthday just two days ago. Behind long wild mud-covered hair haunted green eyes gazed at the crowd.

Chained to the chair, looking lost and starved, and flanked by the ghost-like guards, it seemed impossible to think that he had committed such a crime.

He stood there, quiet and still, unresponsive, as the Wizengamot interrogated the dementors and finally declared him free. Only then did he talk, just as the Wizengamot –and this devoted reporter- started to fear for his mental state.

'Have I fulfilled my whole sentence?' he asked, his voice even and void of any emotion.

'Yes.' answered warily one of the eldest members of the council, Tiberius Ogden.

'Am I in any kind of debt with either the Wizarding Judicial System or the Wizarding Law?'

'No, Harry, my boy, you are free.' answered with a kind smile Albus Dumbledore, self-proclaimed leader of the Light and Headmaster of Hogwarts.

With a surprisingly strong and confident voice the Boy-Who-Lived muttered "Very well…" and with a slight smirk on his lips he waved his hand. As he did so the shackles of his chair opened with a "crack" similar to the one produced by apparition. He then stood and waved at himself in an elegant movement that seemed impossible from such a malnourished body. His appearance changed drastically in the blink of an eye; from the lost beaten boy emerged a tall fit man with long shiny black hair tied in a neat ponytail and broad shoulders that spoke of coolness and authority. His skin was pale but clean, his tattered robe transformed into a silky and luxurious black robe that clung slightly open, revealing the muggle clothing he wore. He seemed comfortable and decided in the tight black leather pants and dark green shirt, and there was something about him, like some kind of aura, that told you didn't want to mess up with him.

There was the powerful man everybody had been talking about but hadn't yet seen, standing proudly on the stage.

Without acknowledging the Wizengamot, he turned to the dementor that accompanied him and bowed vaguely in their direction, dismissing the scary creatures back to Azkaban.

Albus Dumbledore had quite clearly not gotten the "don't mess up with me" sensation or had chosen to ignore it, as he stepped to the front of the auror's files and asked in a grave voice:

'Harry, what is going on?'

'Oh, just a little show of shorts' he answered, dismissing him with a careless wave of his hand. 'Just to show you how fucked up you are' he continued in a light tone of voice. After casting a rather powerful sonorous charm on himself, he waved to the crowd.' Ok, so I'm going to tell you just a pair of things I thought wile in my cell. ' he then winked charmingly at the reporters section of the public, and I have to say this reporter's heart skipped a beat.-Be sure to catch this! Uhum, so, first thing: I'm innocent, at least of the murder you seem convinced was my doing. I know most wizards are slow –no surprises here- but, fuck, muggle police caught the culprits 'bout four years ago. So, a big 'Hurray' for our Judicial System!' he cheered, mockingly raising a fist in the air.' Now, second thing, I'm fed up. The Wizarding World in general and it's society in particular are shit, and I for one resign. I think that was all. Oh, and lets not forget my fantastic good bye biding; 'go fuck yourselves and good luck with Voldemort!''

With enthusiasm he waved goodbye and took off the sonorous spell. As he came down from the platform he had been standing on, Dumbledore –that man can be really dense sometimes!- grabbed his arm to stop him.

'Harry you can't go! You are a wizard, this is your world too.' as the boy shrugged Dumbledore seemed to think that he needed better arguments if he wanted to convince him, and finding none he tried to hold him back anyway' Are you going to let your parent's murderer run free destroying the world that took you out of your filthy hole and showed you what you are capable of?'

'Hell, yeah.' he said, satisfaction clear in his voice.

The people in the courtroom seemed to freeze. Nobody could believe what he had just said. We all know what Dumbledore had been talking about, the whole thing about the Dursleys and their abuse, which he himself had made public. As he unkindly brought this sensitive matter up, this reporter couldn't help but wonder why Dumbledore has not yet had to face a trial because of his admitted evolvement in Harry's childhood settings.

'What? You're shocked to find that I chose the man who killed my parents -and tried unsuccessfully to do the same to me for years- and who asks from me nothing more than to let him be, rather than those who betrayed me, those who sent me to prison when I was fourteen even knowing how greatly dementors affected me and those that without evidence condemned me, and ask from me to fight, suffer, kill and even die for them? I'm sorry to say the decision didn't take long. You've been pushing crap onto me for too long and, guess what? It's over.'

'But Harry, you can't trust Voldemort!' yelled Dumbledore in a desperate attempt to convince him. 'This is probably one of his plots to kill you!'

'Don't be stupid, Dumbles.' he snorted, tapping softly his scar with an accusing finger. 'I can see Voldemort's mind, remember?'

At last one of the members of the Wizengamot regained the ability to speak. (It took them long, don't you think? Further information on Wizengamot's ineptitude, page 9.) Raising her voice slightly, Madam Bones stopped further intervention by the _esteemed_ Headmaster.

'But Mr. Potter, are you really going to let Him kill millions of innocents just because you were condemned for murder?'

'I thought I had already explained that.' he said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. 'But let me do it again and hope this time it penetrates that thick skull of yours. I was fourteen. That same month I had taken an unwilling part on Voldemort's rebirth, miraculously escaped death –once again- and I had been attacked by a death eater in disguise, who was posing as mi Defense teacher. I had been tossed once more to my muggle relatives' house anyway, and it was my freaking birthday. So, trying to put some joy into my somehow obscured soul I went to a muggle bar and tried to relax a bit. And when I came back, before I could even mutter a word, I was taken to fucking Azkaban without a trial. It took the guards three bloody hours to drag me to a cell, I was shaking so badly. I could hear my mother's screams as the green light of the killing curse rushed towards her. So, in retaliation, do you know where they put me? In the fucking cell of a well-known pedophile and child-killer werewolf. When they came to fetch my rests they were so surprised to see me alive and whole that they stared at me awestruck for fifteen minutes straight before moving me to another cell, further into the Dementor's own building. And you left me in that hell's pit for five fucking years! Even Voldemort offered to free me when he saw where I was.' he laughed bitterly. 'And now you ask for _my_ help? Not bloody likely. Those who I deemed worthy of it have already been taken care of. For all I mind, you lot could go and drink hemlock. So, before I have to cut this speech down, as I have something else to do, if my friends of the press would catch this?' we nodded eagerly, avid to know the fine man's opinion of this whole mess. 'Great. Some words to the wizarding world. Please refrain from using them as shirt legends…the official ones are sold in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.' you may find this outstanding shop in number 93 Diagon Alley; the shirt's price is 15 sticles each. For more information on this subject, page 14. '"You are doomed, and you know it", "Fucked with Potter, now you're fucked", and my favourite, "Go fuck yourselves". Oh, and a little piece of advice: do not oppose Voldemort too actively, be careful with what you do and say, and even more so with what you teach your children, and they may be spared.' just as he pronounced the last words he apparated away through the anti-apparition wards.

Didn't I tell you, dear readers, that he was innocent, five long years ago? That we shouldn't let him rot in Azkaban? But I was then silenced by our Government. Today, nobody will stop the harsh truth from being told.

When our Government is so ready to jump to conclusions, condemn people without a trial and make such mistakes without recognizing them in the least, a witch has no option but to distrust it.

Your loyal reporter, I leave you to keep on with the intense search of the truth, to bring it out and into your homes despite every difficulty.

_Yours Faithfully,_

Rita Skeeter, from the Daily Prophet

* * *

**R&R?**


	2. Friends and Allies

I think I'm going to post some of the reactions the frontpage of the Daily Prophet caused. Hope you like it!

(If i don't get reviews i'm leaving the story here, as nobody seems to be interested .-pout-.)

This chapter is dedicated to RebeccaRoy, a really nice reviewer

* * *

In three different cities, three young men choked on their coffee, looking awestruck at the newspapers three innocent-looking owls had just delivered.

In less than five seconds they had flickered through the Daily Prophet's front page, mouths hanging open in surprise and eyes widening with each line.

With the ease gained by regular practice they took their mobile-phones from the occult holders and dialled the number which would establish immediate connection between them.

They stayed silent, trying to catch their own train of thoughts.

'You received it too?' asked one of them, finally breaking the quietness. He was tall and muscled, with short spiked blond hair, sky blue amused eyes, and soft thin lips, which were curled in a smug smirk. Because of his rather…uncommon abilities, he was known as Truth.

'Yes.' the reply, brief and to the point, came from a boy who could easily be defined by those same words. Spike was also tall and slim, his face sharp and pointed, dark blue eyes framed by long black lashes standing out against the fair skin. His silky dark brown, almost black hair was tied up in a tight ponytail.

'Affirmative.' answered the third voice. It was both stern and jovial, in a combination which perfectly suited it's owner. Slaughter was lean, of average height, with shoulder-length reddish brown hair and hazel almond-shaped eyes. At first sight he appeared to be the most ordinary of them. Most obviously, things aren't always what they seem, as there was a glint of something dangerous in that kind eyes that quite clearly denied the overall harmless look.

They quieted once more. Shortly after a long suffering sigh echoed through the phone.

'Holy shit, you won. Again.'

'That I did.' answered back the blonde, self-satisfaction dripping from his words.'He did it at the Ministry, with a newspaper, in 2013!'

Loud cursing could be heard through the line.

'Fuck, he's right. Remind me not to bet against a seer next time, will you?'

'Better remind me to play normal 'Clue' next time.' growled Spike jokingly.

Silence settled once again between the three friends.

'So…anybody knows how's Viper doing?'

'_Viper_?'

'Yeah. I like it better than 'Jade'.'

'Hey! I happen to like 'Jade'.'

'You're kidding, right? You really like 'Jade', as in Jaded?'

'…You do know we've been calling him Jade for years, right?'

'Yes.' Spike answered, and through his voice Truth could tell he was raising his eyebrow derisively, praying to whatever deity there was to end "his torture at the hands of such a brainless idiot", as he loved to say.

'So why do you want to change it now?' inquired Slaughter, puzzled.

'Because he's most obviously a different person now?' the scathing tone was underlined by a hint of their constant friendly bickering.

'But he's not!'

'He's too!'

'He's not!'

'He's too!'

'He's not!'

Slaughter's capacity of involving people in "is not/is too" quarrels was legendary. Even the usually more cool and collected Spike was swayed by him when he went into his "is not/is too" moods.

'He's . Damned, you got me again.'

'That I did. And, just so you know…he's not.'

'Arrg!' Spike was not familiar with frustration…unless Slaughter was in the city. Then, his blood pressure reached impressive heights.-'…'

'What?'

'…You haven't seen the photos, right?'

'What photos?'

'The ones of Viper clad in tight-fitting leather pants, an unbuttoned black silky shirt carelessly showing snow-white skin…That photos.'

Truth, who had been holding his laughter at his friend's antics, quietened, his curiosity suddenly perked up.

'…'

'Why the hell have you seen them while I haven't?' he whined.

'Maybe 'cause I took care of setting photographers by the crowd?' Spike sneered.

'And why would you do that?'

Spike restrained another sigh. Really, could he be more oblivious?

'Perhaps 'cause a fucking seer predicted he'd give them the shock of their lives then?'

'Oh. Right. Yeah…can I get some photos too?'

This time Spike couldn't hold a groan of irritation. And they were supposed to be some of the best criminal masterminds in Europe?

* * *

**R&R?** please? virtual cookies to nice reviewers!


	3. The Order of the Phoenix

Disclaimer: i do not own Harry Potter and co. J.K. Rowling got them first :(

This chapter is dedicated to lmill123, my second reviewer.

* * *

In Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place (London) an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was being held.

'Who does he think he is?' yelled an extremely furious Ron Weasley, pacing back and forth through the room while crushing a torn apart newspaper in his fist. 'Big-headed asshole…He was supposed to come to us, crawling at our feet and begging for us to forgive him!'

An equally enraged Hermione Granger was firing hex after hex to the smug-looking photography of a certain wizard on the newspaper's front page.

'Who does he think he's fooling? He's just a little puppet, and nothing more!' she shouted, the derisive tone of her voice weakened by the frantic rage which lied behind her words. 'He would have never made it so far if it weren't for us! That stupid fool can't even open a book, let alone read it, for God's sake!'

Albus Dumbledore, who had been utterly shocked after the hearing, eventually managed to regain his self-control, and with a wide wave of his wand he demanded silence from the members of the Order.

'Calm down, my boys. This is certainly a drawback in our plans, but I'm sure we can make Harry see the error in his ways…after all, he has nobody to turn to but us.'

Hermione seemed to finally relax as she pondered what the Headmaster had said.

'But' she interrupted, biting her bottom lip in a nervous gesture 'didn't he say he had already made a deal with Voldemort?'

'I'm sure he only said that to demoralize us, Hermione. Voldemort would never stop persecuting him, specially now, as he knows the entire contents of the prophecy. We should concentrate our efforts in whisking him back to the Light.'

Ron, who had sat down when Dumbledore had called to order, suddenly stood up, speaking vehemently:

'We do not need him! I've been leading the student's force for five years, and we've done great without him! His only use is moping around and calling for trouble. What good is that to the Order? I say we forget him and keep on with everything just as it has been during these last years.'

Silence followed the redhead's speech. Then hell broke loose as each and every member of the Order tried to put their two cents in.

Dumbledore sighed. He'd never tell a soul, but deep down, he had no choice but to agree with that damned brat: they were utterly doomed.

* * *

**R&R?** Next chapter: death eaters reactions...


	4. Death Eaters Hideout

Summary: Harry Potter was sent to Azkaban charged with murder. The murder of Cedric Diggory. He was, of course, innocent. That was five years ago, and today he's to be released...would you like to read the Daily Prophet's shocking headlines? slightly dark!harry AU

Disclaimer: i do not own Harry Potter and co. J.K. Rowling got them first :(

I'm sorry it took so long to update...and such a short chapter at that. I promise the next one will be longer.

* * *

**Location Unknown, Evil Hide-Out, 6:30 A.M**

It was early in the morning and so just a few death eaters were in the dining Hall when the mail arrived.  
Most of them were low-level death eaters who had been on watch duty and whose shift had just ended, as inner-circle death eaters didn't usually arrive before eight o'clock. In only three ocasions had they arrived earlier than that: when their Lord first struck Diagon Alley, back in the First War, which had been the first real blow to the light forces; when their Lord had been resurrected, five years ago; and when the Potter brat had been imprisoned, some days after his resurrection.

They were thus surprised when Voldemort himself entered the room, accompanied by the inner-circle and some of his most important allies and followers.

They sat at the table quietly and it was soon flooded with delicious-looking dishes provided by the ever-helpful house-elves.  
As they helped themselves, Voldemort took the newspaper a snow-white owl was offering him, and smirked as he scanned the front page, soon becoming engrossed in the reading of the article.

He was brought out of his musings by an startled yelp coming from somewhere in the table, far away from him, meaning it had come from one of the lesser death eaters or allies. This reaction was soon followed by Lucius, who had been one of the few death eaters that had bothered to open the newspaper and after seeing the front page had gracelessly chocked on his coffee.  
Severus, who was sitting to his right, patted him awkwardly on the back, but soon became distracted as he too glimpsed the paper, his mouth forming a perfect "o" as he browsed through the article.

Voldemort stood gracefully and all the chattering around him died, every single person turning expectanly to him.  
They had been told to come at such an ungodly hour with the promise of an explanation once they were there, and lots of pain if they weren't. It hadn't been a tough decision, but they were curious as to why they had been called.

'Today is a glorious day for all of us, the day that will mark, more thoroughly than any before, the triumph of the Dark!' he hissed, his soft voice carrying with little dificultly through the large room. 'Today the prophecy dies, as the last real bastion of the Light chooses freely to embrace the Dark, announcing a New Era! Today, my allies and friends, today' he whispered, his lips twisting in a enticing and sinister smile 'the World is ours.'

Silence followed his speech, and soon cheering and shouting ensured. Voldemort silenced them all with a wave of his hand, bringing their attention again to his imposing figure.

'For today, the World will see the errors the leaders of the Light have committed, and their greatest icon turns to us, seeking the Dark for all to see.'

* * *

**R&R?**


	5. Harry Potter

Story: THE DAILY PROPHET

Summary: Harry Potter was sent to Azkaban charged with murder. The murder of Cedric Diggory. He was, of course, innocent. That was five years ago, and today he's to be released...would you like to read the Daily Prophet's shocking headlines?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of his characters.

Sorry for the long wait...but this story is changing right before my eyes and it's a bit difficult to keep up with the changes. I may have to revise some of the other chapters soon.

So...hope you like it!

Hum...english is my second language, so please point out the errors so I can correct them.

* * *

Harry Potter, despite having every reason not to be so, was happy. Yep.

Well, there may have been a bit of residual anger at Dumblybore...and those fools of the Ministry...and most of his old Hogwarts "friends"...To be honest, it was more of a blistering, murderous rage than a bit of harmless anger, but that shouldn't surprise any of the recipients of his ire. They had, after all, brought it upon themselves.

But, anyway, he was at last free, not only of Azkaban, but of the stigma and endless obligations and expectations that came with his despised title as icon of the Light. He was free to be less than perfectly moral, righteous, and the overall knight-in-shining-armour routine. He could, and would, at last unleash his Slytherin nature and show it to the world, rather forcefully if it came to that. He could be anything he wanted to.

Harry laughted. Freedom was such a precious thing...more addictive than anything he'd ever tried, more tantalizing and perfect than anything he'd ever met before. It was better than pleasure, better than power, better than fulfillment and even happiness. It was pure bliss.

But he was digressing.

Only minutes ago he had been giving his statement to the press, and he was already inebriated of freedom.

'Too much, too fast' he chuckled, smirking to himself. Just as he liked it.

He got up from the grass and looked around. He'd apparated to some secluded park, he hadn't got the slightest where. He didn't particularly care; all he cared about right now were the light breeze blowing through his hair, the strong smell of the very grass and earth calling to him, the light sounds of nature around him.

But enough fooling around, he decided. He had made quite a statement, and in less than twenty-four hours even his wizarding-world secluded friends would know about it, of that he was sure.

He had things to do, places to visit, and traitors to hunt down.

'Oh, joy.' He muttered. 'Not half an hour away from Azkaban and my to-do list is already too bloody long to my liking.'

First things first, he had to get his weapons back.

He may not have been a Slytherin while in Hogwarts, but he had certainly been one away of her watchful gaze.

And no Slytherin would ever venture unarmed in the kind of places he was going to. Hell, no Slytherin would ever venture unarmed, full stop.

He already felt the longing pull of his second wand, calling to him. And he could almost smell in the air the light taste his Smith and Wesson left after a good round of shooting. His arms felt nude without the slight weight of the hidden knives.

And those were just his basic weapons. He'd have to get the whole lot if he was to get around all those _chores_.

He grinned happily, and apparated away.

* * *

adenoide: Hi! In response to your review, rest assured, cause Harry will not, under any circumstances, help the Light side. I'm thinking more along the lines of giving them hell! Thank you for reviewing!

**R&R?**


End file.
